Page 45 of Echoes of the Banshee

She leans in, way too close for comfort. “Want to go somewhere private?”

I force a grin. “You’re not my type.”

She laughs, soft and airy, as though I’ve told the world’s best joke. “Sure, you say that now. But you’re not really the type to know what you want, are you?” She cocks an eyebrow, like she’s figured me out. “I mean, if you were, wouldn’t you have already made a move?”

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stay calm. She likes to get a reaction. “I know exactly what I want, and it’s not you.”

Her smile doesn’t waver. “You say that, but there’s this look in your eyes…” She inches closer. “Maybe you’re just scared. Scared to admit it. Or maybe you just don’t know how to handle it.”

I rewind the words in my head, hoping they’d sound different the second time around. No luck. “You know I don’t date witches.”

Anita and these games are exactly why. Witches are power-hungry, emotionally vacant, and manipulative.

Her laugh is light and dismissive. “Oh, please. You keep saying that, but if you were really so against it, you’d be able to ignore me by now. The thing is, you don’t. You keep looking at me, like you’re trying to convince yourself that you’re not interested.”

I clench my fists at my sides. She’s pushing buttons I didn’t even know existed. “I don’t touch witches.”

“Who said anything about touching? Interesting that that’s where your mind went. I’m not asking for that. But I do wonder… what’s really stopping you?” She glances around, then back to me. “I’ve seen how you react. You can’t keep pretending it’s not there. You can’t keep lying to yourself.”

I take a step away, hoping to get some space, but she follows, practically breathing down my neck. “I don’t need to lie to myself. You’re just—”

“Just what? Too much for you to handle? Or maybe you’ve just convinced yourself you don’t want it. That you can’t want it. But look at you…” She lets the words hang in the air. “You don’t get to act like you’re not interested when I can practically see how hard you’re trying to avoid this.”

I feel my jaw tighten. She’s playing with my mind now. I spin on my heel, walking away, hoping she won’t follow. But of course she does. Her perfume trails after me, like a shadow stalking its prey.

“You’re really going to keep running, huh?” she calls after me, her voice dripping with amusement.

Without looking back, I duck out the side door, cast a quick illusion and blend into a hedge near the porch. She steps out, scanning the sidewalk, then pouts and turns toward the party.

I let out a breath, the tension in my chest finally loosening. I roll up my sleeves and no curse marks have shown up. My footsteps echo in the night. I don’t even know where I’m going. Just away. Anywhere that’s not this party, not Anita, not any of this fake nonsense.

Before I know it, I’m standing in front of Thea’s dorm, blinking in surprise. Didn’t plan on ending up here, but now that I am, it feels… right. I knock.

The door opens.

“Hey?” she says, confused. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” I tell her.

“I thought you said you were going to a party.” It doesn’t sound like she cares, more like she doesn’t remember she was supposed to meet me.

“I just… walk?”

She gives me a small, understanding nod, and we go. No questions, no pressure. Just the two of us moving through the cool night air.

Exactly what I needed, though I didn’t know it until now.

Benson

The Enemy of My Enemy is Extremely Attractive

The cafeteria line is backed up again. Three witches are fighting with the worker about their salads having fatty dressing. I let out a sigh as I wait. The witch in the back spins around.

“What’s your problem, ore-brain?”

“Apparently your dress size,” I respond. Her friends spin. Eyes narrowing. Oops. Stupid smart mouth.

“You would pay attention, mosshead,” her red-haired friend says.